


The sound of your voice

by SmileDesu



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, prompt - insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileDesu/pseuds/SmileDesu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's been slipping over the edge for as long as he can remember, but there's one thing that always manages to bring him back<br/>Prompt: Insanity</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sound of your voice

He stares at his reflection, the image blurred behind a thick layer of fog. He reaches for the mirror, scarred fingers tracing over where he can barely make out his face. The clear trail, two fingertips wide, reveals damp hair clinging to his face, smooth skin and then, the taint of dark ink. His hand stops for a moment before he moves it again, the trail curling as his fingertips trace the tattoos' outline over his face. He frowns, dragging his fingers aside to reveal the scar over his nose. That only deepens his scowl and he draws his hand away from the mirror, exposing his reflection's face. It's for but a moment, however, as he's not there to look at it. He's already out the door, steam escaping into the adjacent room, his wet footprints leading out of the bedroom.  
  
"Good morning, Koujaku-san!"  
"Koujaku-san! Looking good!"  
His Rib teammates. Precious, confused, well-meaning things. They flock to him on sight, but keep at an arm's length out of respect. Their smiling faces greet him, eyes desperately begging for his approval. They update him on what's currently taking place, or attempt to partake in small talk, their voices creating an endearing, lively chatter around him.  
 _Annoying,_ he thinks briefly behind a hollow smile and tries to ignore an itch over his left shoulder. They take off, each to mind their own business, and despite the bright expression on his face his fist is clenched at his side, nails digging into his palm. The itch is getting worse, so he realigns his kimono before walking away, silently reconsidering his decision to open shop for the day.  
  
"Kyaaa, Koujaku-san!"  
"Kou~ja~ku!"  
"Eeeh, he smiled at me!"  
"Whaaat?! Lucky!"  
The women lined outside the shop create their usual commotion, yelping and squeeking and shrilling. The lucky one who just happened to stop by sooner squirms in her seat.  
"Aah, you're moving again." He berates with perfectly veiled annoyance and gently cups her chin. Her cheeks paint as she stares at him in the mirror. His hold tightens briefly but he pulls away before it becomes painful, leaving her confused and oddly enchanted by the strange gesture.  
 _It itches_  
He pauses to sigh and runs his fingers through her hair. Maybe he should just cut it--  
  
"Cut it out!"  
  
The crowd outside is restless. A large man is making a scene, harassing the waiting patrons outside. Maybe it's because of the noise they're making, or he's trying to hit on someone. Perhaps he's trying to cut in line. It doesn't matter, though.  
  
"Koujaku-san?" The client asks and tugs uncertainly at an oddly cut strand of hair over her temple, but he has already put down his comb and scissors. The woman begs him not to leave because she's scared, but he pays her no mind. He can barely hear the relieved voices of the people gathered when he steps out, the look in his eyes enough to make the perpetrator take a step back. The few calling for a peaceful resolution are drowned out by the bloodthirsty crowd and even the half-assed attempt at an apology from the man himself go unabided, ignored. None of it matters as his back itches, his face stings, a sensation that pierces his head, making his thoughts into a red haze. They're all so very, _very_ _annoying_... he doesn't even try to hide the feral grin on his lips when he draws his sword. It itches and finally, _finally_ there's someone to pay the price for it.  
  
 _Kou--_  
  
The man yells out in anger, then in pain. An amateur at best, no--  
  
 _\--aku--_  
  
A joke. A _disgrace_. He's not even trying and still the man keeps falling back or down. Yes, get back up again, he thinks and licks his lips, hunger evident in his eyes. A growl leaves him and he flips the sword in his hand. The next strike will be with the sharp side of the blade and at long last there will be _blood--_  
  
"KOUJAKU!"  
  
A startled gasp tears through Koujaku's throat past his lips. The sound of static clears from his ears and after a moment of silence, of complete lack of sound, he hears the people around him, acknowledging their existence. The man on the ground moans in his curled up position, begging him to stop. He straightens up, gulps, and flips the sword around again before sheathing it. What happens next is of little importance to him. He scans the crowd, looking for the source of the voice that snapped him out of it, drew him back. Before he can manage there's a hand grabbing his wrist and he's yanked away into an ally while the police deals with whoever couldn't run away fast enough. It doesn't matter, though, they're safe and here they are, him, and--  
  
"Aoba..." The name leaves him, holding to it an air of reverence. The blue-haired young man takes a moment to catch his breath before giving Koujaku's face a good, long look. His expression is blank but then his lips break into a smile and he lets out a heavy sigh.  
  
"Good thing your groupies were there, they make a great diversion."  
  
"Haa..." He replies, still disoriented. Aoba doesn't let the silence settle and rests his hand on Koujaku's head, tilting it this way and that.  
  
"What- hey, stop!" Koujaku protests and pulls away. Aoba smiles back.  
  
"That's more like it. You had me worried there for a moment, I called you but you didn't respond."  
  
The older of the two looks at his friend's face, taking in the honest worry evident even with Aoba's gaze downcast. "You were really ripping into him, what did he do?"  
  
"Ah-" He can't bring himself to answer, knowing he can't justify his actions. Granted, he _could_ lie, but the way Aoba's face is twisted into a mask of concern prevents him from doing that. He can't lie - not to Aoba.  
"He harassed the people in line. You're right, though, I overdid it. It's just--" He turns to Aoba but finds that he cannot face that earnest, warm look. He palms his face.  
"It's been a long day."  
He can't see Aoba's face like this, nor does he particularly want to. The disappointment and disdain he must be feeling, and rightly so--  
  
"Hey."  
And yet there's none of that in that lone syllable that makes Koujaku look up to see Aoba is once again smiling. If anything, he looks relieved.  
  
"We all have these days. I'm just glad I managed to stop you in time. How about this - drop by later. I'll tell Granny you're coming over for dinner, and then we can catch up on the veranda. Maybe have some of that sake you got me for my birthday."  
  
His expression must be quite pathetic, but Koujaku doesn't care. Every last part of the plan sounds nothing short of divine, and he knows it's not only because it's Aoba who said it. Though for some reason his voice always _does_ get to him...  
  
"On one condition, though."  
  
"Eh?!"  
  
By the time Koujaku names his demand, he has recovered enough to flash Aoba one of his trademark lady-killer smirks.  
"Sing me a lullaby."  
  
"...I should've left you for dead." Aoba growls. Koujaku laughs. "Is this your new pickup line? Amazing, and here I thought you couldn't get any cheesier."  
  
"It's not that, I just--" Koujaku's voice is small, almost pleading, and Aoba is taken aback by it.  
"I just really want to hear your voice before dozing off."  
  
It's a bizarre request, not to mention disturbing, but Aoba doesn't look away no matter how painted his cheeks have gotten.  
  
"Sure, I'll bite. If you think it'll help you feel better. This isn't some weird romantic exercise though, right? Trying it on me first before your next date?"  
  
"Tae-san will never forgive me. In fact, she just might have my head if I tried it on you while she's sleeping in the very next room."  
  
"She will." Aoba confirms before laughing. Koujaku smiles and bids him farewell. It's disappointing, but at least he has plans for the night, and for what it's worth, at least for now, the itch is gone.


End file.
